


Christmas Day With A Literal Demon

by 3mm4



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Demon!Jean, M/M, Meeting the Parents, human!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3mm4/pseuds/3mm4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe bringing your boyfriend, who is a literal demon from the depths of Hell, to meet your very Christian family, for Christmas no less, isn't the best idea?<br/>A silly Christmas-themed fic written for the JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2015!<br/>Rozelith (ask-irl-french-jean) asked for a modern AU with demon!Jean and human!Marco, and I added the Christmas theme!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Day With A Literal Demon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rozelith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozelith/gifts).



“It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

“You sure about that? The picture I’ve got in my head is worse than hell, and I _know_ how shitty it is there.”

“Oh, please. They’ll love you, trust me. And as I recall, you said you didn’t want to go because of the distance. We’re nearly there, Jean.”

“You know that’s not why.”

“I do?”

“Seriously? Marco, you’re bringing your boyfriend, who is a literal demon from the depths of Hell, to meet your very Christian family. _For Christmas_. You really can’t hear the alarm bells ringing? They’re loud as fuck, babe.”

“ _It’ll be fine_. They’re not even that religious anyway; It’s not like there’s going to be crucifixes on the walls.”

*

Crucifix. On the fucking wall. It was the first thing Jean saw as he walked through the front door. It was hanging right on the other side of the hallway from them. He was probably imagining things, but it made Jean feel uncomfortable just from the proximity. Apparently Marco had noticed too, as he let out a nervous laugh and gave Jean’s hand a little squeeze before stepping forward to accept his mother’s offer of a hug.

She was a short, plump woman, with cropped black hair peppered with grey strands. Her eyes were tired but friendly, and her face was etched with laugh lines and dark freckles. Her name was Rosemary, if Jean remembered correctly.

“Marco!” she hugged him like a vice, making Jean wonder if he could breathe properly, “It’s been too long. You need to visit us more often!” She released him from her hug and her gaze shifted to Jean.

“Is this the boyfriend you mentioned in your card? It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jean! Come here.” She extended her arms towards him and he had to put down the basket of gifts he was carrying before reached out to give her a hug. He realised too late what she was wearing around her neck.

_Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit._

The metal cross on her necklace burned like a brand against his chest, even through his shirt. Jean gritted his teeth and made a mental note to give Marco hell for this later. For now, though, it was all he could do to keep a pleasant expression on his face.

Finally, Rosemary set him free from her embrace. Jean internally sighed in relief. He cleared his throat, “It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs Bodt,”

“Rosemary, please,” she replied warmly. He just smiled and nodded.

“Is that Marco here already?” a voice rang through the hallway, soon followed by a head popping around the corner.

“Dad!” Marco greeted him, striding over to give him a hug as well.

“And you must be Jean. I’m Gabe, Marco’s dad. Nice to meet you.” Jean tried to hide his relief as Gabe elected to only shake his hand.

“Gabriel, don’t hold them up; they must be freezing!” Rosemary beckoned them around the corner, “It’s much warmer in the living room, come on.”

They walked through the kitchen first. The smell of the roast in the oven permeated through the air, filling the house with a delicious aroma which mixed pleasantly with the scent of pine as they entered the living room.

The Bodts’ Christmas tree was enormous, barely fitting under the ceiling. It was decorated with what looked like homemade decorations, some of which were just cardboard stars covered in glitter and hanging from strings. Jean remembered Marco telling him he had siblings, but he wasn’t sure how many he had mentioned, or how old they were. Underneath the tree were dozens of gifts, neatly wrapped and each sporting a gold stick-on card.

Jean shifted the weight of his basket in his arms and turned back to Rosemary. “Should I just…?” he began, flicking his gaze from the presents in his arms to the ones on the floor.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Just put those down with the rest, dear,” said Rosemary before looking over her shoulder to the kitchen, “There’s still a few things to prepare for dinner, so I hope you’ll excuse me.”

She hurried over to the kitchen, where her husband had already wandered back while they were chatting and was now cutting the ends off a bowlful of beans.

“So… What do you think?” Marco asked, moving closer to him and slipping his arms around Jean’s waist, “Still worse than Hell?”

“No,” Jean admitted, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch, “It’s nice. Your parents are nice. But I do have one question…”

“Hm?”

“What is _that_?” He gestured towards the angel balanced on the top of the tree. He made a disgusted face, and Marco laughed.

“That is a traditional tree-top decoration,” Marco answered, amused, “Don’t you like it? It’s not like a crucifix, right? It won’t hurt you.”

“Angels are pompous bastards and that is a fact. Why would you want one of those assholes on your tree? They don’t deserve the praise they get,” Jean grumbled.

“And you’re completely unbiased, right?” Marco smirked at him.

“Of course I am!” he feigned being offended by the suggestion.

Marco went quiet for a few seconds. “Sorry about the crucifixes, by the way. They didn’t have any last time I came here… Are you okay? Mum’s necklace touched you, didn’t it?”

“I’m fine,” Jean assured him, “It didn’t touch my bare skin anyway. Just… Next time, make an excuse for me?”

“Of course,” Marco promised, “… Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I love you, and therefore I want your parents to like me, so I’m kind of doing this for me too,” He reached his hand up to cup Marco’s cheek and pull him down for a kiss. Their lips had barely touched when they pulled apart in surprise as a loud thud came from above them.

A muffled, but certainly not quiet, squeal of “Marco’s here!” echoed from the second floor, followed by a succession of fast thumps as several pairs of feet ran down the stairs. At least five kids bounded into the room, ages ranging from about six or seven to the early teens. One of them turned sharply and skidded round the corner to the kitchen.

“Can we open presents now?” she asked excitedly, “You said we could when Marco got here!”

“Your brother comes to visit for the first time in months and the first thing you want to do is open presents?” Rosemary shook her head, disapproving, “Ilse, go say hello to Marco and then we can talk.”

Marco’s sister pouted momentarily, then turned on her heel to walk back to the living room. She skipped up to Marco and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Hi Marco,” her voice was muffled from speaking into his chest.

“So now I’m worthy of a hug?” Marco teased.

“Sorry, bro, it’s Christmas. Presents come first,” she shrugged.

Ilse looked to be about twelve years old. She had brown hair and eyes, and freckles like Marco; It wasn’t hard to tell they were related. In fact, they could have been mistaken for twins if they were closer in age.

The other kids mumbled hellos to both Marco and Jean.

“Oh, um, this is my boyfriend Jean,” Marco said when one of them asked, “Jean, this is my sister Ilse, and our cousins on our dad’s side, Rose, Maria, Sina, Stefan and Andrea.” He pointed to them in what Jean assumed was age order, with the two boys being the oldest.

Ilse stayed by Marco’s side, but called out to her parents in the kitchen, “Now can we open them?”

“No, your uncles and aunties are arriving soon, so we should wait for them,” Rosemary called back.

“But you said when Marco got here!” Ilse whined.

“That was when we thought they’d be here last, Ilse,” Gabe answered “Would it be so hard to wait half an hour?”

“Ye-“ Ilse’s protests were interrupted by a knock on the door. Rosemary bustled out to the hallway, and the door opening followed by a few excited exclamations of “Merry Christmas!” could be heard before the house was invaded by about a dozen of Marco’s relatives.

“Hey, Marco!” shouted a woman from halfway across the house. She was tall, lean and, like Ilse, shared a noticeable likeness to Marco.

“Ymir!” Marco greeted her, striding over to her. Ymir clapped him on the back, grinning broadly. “And Historia! It’s good to see you again. How’ve you been?” he added to the blonde woman who was holding her hand next to her. Before she had the chance to reply, Ymir singled out Jean from the sea of Bodts and asked loudly, “Who’s that?”

Jean looked up from his phone and walked over to them when Marco subtly beckoned him. “Hey,” he said somewhat awkwardly.

“Jean, this is my elder sister, Ymir, and her wife Historia,” he introduced them, “And Jean’s my boyfriend.”

“How long have you two been together?” Historia asked. Her voice sounded like an angel. Jean could have sworn he threw up a little in his mouth.

“A little under a year. Officially, I mean,” Marco answered promptly, and Jean added a quiet hum of agreement.

“We should go put her out of her misery,” Ymir said, nodding over at Ilse, who was hovering impatiently around the tree. Marco laughed and nodded.

*

Jean sat next to Marco on the sofa, and watched as Ilse and the cousins shuffled around, handing out the gifts to their recipients. Ilse picked up one gift and he watched her as she made her way across the room… to him? He and Marco had already opened their presents to each other in the morning before heading off.

He took the gift from Ilse and peeked under the little card.

_Dear Jean,_

_Sorry it’s such a small present, we didn’t know you were coming until we got Marco’s card!_

_Merry Christmas!_

_Love,_

_Rosemary and Gabriel_

He searched for their faces across the room before sending a grateful smile their way, which they returned warmly.

They opened their presents one by one, moving around the circle clockwise. It took a little while to get to Jean since Ilse, who wanted to open hers first, was sitting directly to the left of him. Marco nudged him gently to remind him it was his turn, and he carefully unstuck the tape fastening the wrapping paper together. He pulled off the paper to reveal a box of dark chocolates. He tried to hide his pleasant surprise, but he didn’t think it worked. Marco _must_ have told them it was his favourite. He thanked Marco’s parents and put the box down at his feet.

*

It felt like ages before Christmas dinner was served, and Jean was ready to eat a horse. Once again, he sat next to Marco, on one of the tables that the Bodts had presumably pushed together to accommodate them all. He was too busy scarfing down his food to engage in much conversation, but after a while he found himself conversing and laughing with the rest of the family.

In time, the family migrated from the dinner table back to the living room to chat merrily some more. Jean learned that Ymir and Historia were newlyweds, that Rosemary had just joined a social walking group, and that Ilse had done exceptionally in her end of year exams. It was fine, and it was nice, and it felt so indescribably _human._

*

“It was better than I expected,” Jean admitted later that night, in the guest bedroom they were staying over in for that night.

“See, what did I tell you?” Marco mumbled into his boyfriend’s shoulder as he lay next to him in their double bed.

“For starters, you told me there wouldn’t be crucifixes,” Jean shot him a devilish smirk, and Marco patted him on the arm gently. They both laughed. Jean shifted his arm around Marco to idly stroke his hair, to which Marco responded by snuggling closer.

“But you still had fun?” Marco prompted.

“Yeah,” Jean replied, “But I still want to leave first thing tomorrow.” Marco made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.

“’M tired,” Jean could barely make out Marco’s voice, muffled by both his evident sleepiness and Jean’s arm, “Let’s just go to sleep…”

Jean played with Marco’s hair until his own eyelids grew heavy, letting him drift comfortably to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a bad person for posting this with literal minutes from the deadline but I hope you like it!


End file.
